Star Wars: Remembering the Fallen
by Marcus the Iron Raven
Summary: Mark Drallig visits New Holstice and reflects on the love of his life; Aubrie Wyn, who passed away during the Second Battle of Jabiim, then fights the man who he believes betrayed her and the rest of the Padawan Pack, Anakin Skywalker. OC/Aubrie Wyn


Author's Notes:  
This is my first attempt at writing a Star Wars fanfiction, something I was very reluctant to do, but I am rather pleased how it turned out. Any feedback would be appreciated.

* * *

There were many roles a Jedi could be called upon to fill in the Republic; Guardians, Healers, Negotiators, Peace-keepers and Rescuers. They would go forth after getting their assignments from the Jedi Council and travel to the farthest sectors of the galaxy, protecting the innocent and brining criminals to justice, and would almost always get the job done. Masters would teach their Padawan learners in the ways of their order, and would guide them for years until the apprentice was able to become a Knight in his own right by taking the Trials, after both learning and living the Jedi Code.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force._

A Jedi would learn to live by the Code, no matter how difficult it seemed to be.

The Jedi Code was not always meant to be taken literally; after all, emotions cannot be shut out completely, but rather the Code was meant to guide the Jedi throughout his or her life. Rather then shutting out their emotions, Jedi were encouraged to explore their feelings and thoughts, and to come to some understand what they felt then to deal with their emotions appropriately. A Jedi had to learn not to act on their feelings, but to rather find the peace within themselves then come to a logical answer to the situation presented.

A Jedi could not be ignorant to the world around them, after all their duties to the Force and the Republic relied on their ability to know what was happening around them. A Jedi was expected to learn as much about their surroundings as possible, for knowledge and wisdom to light the path of diplomacy and peace.

Passion was often the hardest of emotions to control, and while this part of the Code seemed to be a repetition of the first line, it dealt directly with the strongest urges that could move a man or woman to action. Passion lead the way to the dark side; a Jedi who feared for the life of a loved one would be motivated to protect their life against all costs, or a Jedi who felt anger would learn to give in to all their hate, and become a true agent of evil. Thus passion was to be set aside, and a Jedi taught to always stay in control, less their actions be clouded by judgment.

Chaos was a tricky term; on one hand a Jedi's life didn't not need to have any particular order or balance, they could exist as wanderers or nomads, going wherever the Force led them, but it was also true that everything is connected by the Force, yet independent, thus life and death, as well as the universe, was just a balanced cycle of events. Even the worst situations and scenarios could be understood to be part of this balance.

But it was Death that Mark Drallig was finding the hardest to understand at this moment; the single thing that could ever occur in one's life that you can't simply bounce back from. No longer were Jedi the peace-keepers, now they were the Generals, the Warriors, the Spies. Many Jedi had fallen since the war's beginning almost three years ago, including some of Mark's own friends who he had made as a child at the Jedi Temple: Aubrie Wyn, who shared Mark's skill at healing, albeit at a greater level. Mak Lotor, his eldest friend and the ideal Jedi in Mark's eyes. Kass Tod, a striking Zebrak with piercing blue eyes and long black hair, she had often been Mark's sparring partner and fellow student of the Ataru form of lightsaber combat. Bhat Jul, a Nikto, had always been there whenever Mark had needed him, his pragmatism rubbing off onto Mark. Finally it was the death of Zule Xiss, the red Falleen Padawan who had echoed Mark's own love for battle and adventure that had really pushed him over the edge. Zule had always been the strongest of his friends, almost unstoppable and rebellious to the point that the Council had once predicted she would die in a bar brawl. But it had turned out the Council was wrong; Aubrie, Mak, Kass and Zule had all died fighting on Jabiim, slain alongside twenty-three other Jedi by the Separatist droid armies, while Bhat Jul had died on Aargonar, buried by the sandy storms that swept the planet.

Mark had visited New Holstice along with his master, Serra Keto. Serra was a Knight, several years Mark's senior and his uncle's greatest apprentice. The acrobatic Jedi was considered one of the greatest duelists in the Jedi Order, specialized in Jar'Kai, the art of using two sabers at once and enhancing one's speed and striking harder and faster. Mark would marvel at his master's movements; the almost-erratic way she would cut down foes within nanoseconds, her black hair tied into a long braid in order to keep it from disrupting her as she would plow through the ranks of enemy battle droids. But she stood still, her head bowed as she and Mark stood before the great memorial to the fallen Jedi on New Holstice, and listened to the brightly shining Memory Moths whisper the names of the Jedi who had fallen, names as fresh as those who had died only this year to names of great masters who had perished thousands of years before.

Mark knew he was close to breaking down. He couldn't stomach what had happened to his friends, or the changes the Order was undergoing. It made him sick inside, knowing that the Jedi were now fragmenting on all sides, some giving into their anger and falling to the dark side of Force while others became disallusioned and left But worse, he knew he should have been there on Jabiim too, on the awful blood-soaked battlefield, beating back the Confederate armies alongside his friends. He couldn't help but feel that if he had been there, then maybe some of them may have survived. He knew he was possibly the best fighter of them all, having been trained in six of the seven forms of lightsaber combat by both his master and uncle.

"Be mindful of your thoughts, my Padawan." Serra's softy spoken words broke Mark out of his reverie. Next to him, his master seemed almost to be meditating, her eyes shut and face seemingly calm.

"I'm sorry master, I was just thinking about my friends," replied Mark, eyes downcast, but his master knew him better then that. Although his first master, the Jedi Master and Diplomat Coleman Trebor had been the one to take him on as an apprentice a decade ago, in the short time Mark had known Serra Keto he had already bonded with her well, the two formed an excellent team together, forming an elite fighting duo that complemented one another well.

"While the Jedi Code allows one to grieve the loss of others, you mustn't allow that grieving turn into revenge. Honor their memory as you continue with your own life, and never allow their deaths to force you to action."

Mark drew himself into the Living Force, and allowed his senses to be overwhelmed by the life around him. Pain and suffering stormed into his mind, the Hospital World full of the injured and crippled ranks of the Clones, but the birth and creation cycles of the Memory Moths settled his feelings. The moths flew for an eternity, being truly immortal, each one of the creatures flying in the great pillar of light that is the memorial carrying a name forever. Mark drew in the whispers of several passing Memory Moths.

_Nomi Sunrider. Belth Cho Leem. Yarael Poof. Darra Thel-Tanis. Aubrie Wyn._

Tears came unbidden, and Mark hoped desperately that his master wouldn't notice, but of course she would. Serra could feel Mark's anguish in the force, his mournful soul a dark spot in the Force, sucking in everything and extinguishing all light.

"You fell in love, didn't you?"

Jedi were firmly encouraged not to form personal relationships, as many of the emotions that come with it are heralds to the dark side of the Force, only under special circumstances was this broken. Mark had fallen in love in Aubrie back when the two were just twelve, both waiting desperately for a master to come and choose them as a Padawan. The two had always been friends, right from the start of their initiation into the Jedi Order, had been in the same youngling clan and had both passed their Initiate Trials, but no master would pick them it seemed. With little time left, the two had talked about life outside the Jedi Order, and had finally revealed their true feelings for one another.

They had spent a night together in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, lying under the hanging limbs of the Nesari Tree and whispering their love for each other then departing to their rooms before anyone would realize they were missing.

It was ironic that the next day would bring a master to both of their doors, Master Coleman Trebor knocked on Mark's door while Aubrie was visited by Master Sirrus. The pair had immediately panicked, and both had promised one another that while they would still love, that love could not ever be acted upon. Now, a decade later, Aubrie had been dead for two years and Mark still couldn't get over his loss. Memories of the night spent in the Room of a Thousand Fountains came unbidden to Mark, and his knees almost buckled under him.

Only four years ago the pair was brought together for a mission, a team of two masters and two Padawans being chosen to negotiate a peace-treaty between the Virgillian Free Alignment and the Aristocracy Government on Virgillia 7. An earlier team of Jedi who had been sent to the sector had been killed, their transport destroyed. The Council had decided to send the second team in to determine the cause of the first team's deaths and to finish the mission they had started. It was during this mission when Mark and Aubrie once more gave in to their love, indulging in a kiss when it seemed their lives would end prematurely, but once more fate had other plans, and the two had to hide their feelings once more as their masters rescued them.

At the beginning of the Clone Wars, at the Battle of Geonosis, both Padawans had been present with their masters, and had infiltrated the arena with the rest of the Jedi force sent there to rescue Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padme Amidala and Anakin Skywalker. Both Padawans had fought against the overwhelming numbers of battle droids and geonisians, and it had seemed to them at that point that their lives couldn't be full of any more purpose. Seeing his master shot down by a bounty hunter while attempting to capture the Separatist Leader, Count Dooku, Mark had gone into a rage, and had begun engaging his opponents in a passionate fury, striking down any who came close to harming his precious Aubrie. He had, at one point, caught up to the Dark Acolyte, Sev'rance Tann, and fought with the female Chiss, his blue lightsaber smashing against her yellow over and over, the two spinning in a lethal dance in the canyons outside the arena, each seeking to gain any form of advantage over the other, but the outcome was never in doubt. Mark disarmed the Chiss, and prepared to end her life as Aubrie caught up to him in turn, and persuaded him to stop and take a look at himself, that if he went through with the kill he would become one with the dark side. Tann had used this distraction to facilitate her escape, throwing both Jedi off the side of the canyon while she raced away to join her forces.

At the end of the battle, Mark Drallig and Aubrie Wyn were not counted amongst the dead, both found bloody and broken, but alive. Bacta had healed their wounds then, but it couldn't heal Mark's heart now.

"What happened?"

Mark knew his master wouldn't let him mourn like this; it wasn't the Jedi way to grow so attached then to keep your feelings bottled up without dealing with them, so there was no way Serra would leave him alone now. She had probably sensed his feelings streaming off him in waves using the Force.

"I fell in love, Master. We had agreed to break it off, and put the Order first, but in the end I still loved her. We were apart for so long, but we were always together in our hearts. Now she's really gone, killed on Jabiim." It was almost impossible not to remember the brush of his fingers on her fine brown hair, the caress of his lips on hers while they held each other passionately, without regret. "She killed the leader of the Jabiim nationalists, and ended the Republic's war there."

A blood and rain soaked battlefield. Tens of thousands of clone troops dead, amongst dozens of Jedi. It was on that battlefield, on the forty-third day of fighting when she had died, shot by the enemy general as she fell upon him with her lightsabers, leaving the two lying on each other, which seemed to Mark like a twisted parody of life, Aubrie's head lying softly on the general's chest, his hands around her, as if to cradle her like a father with his daughter.

"My apprentice, do you know why we are here?" Mark didn't know; his master had simply told him that she wished to visit the memorial on New Holstice, as they were given a few weeks rest before being assigned to their next mission.

"They say that when you mediate in front of the memorial and think of those you have lost, it's possible to find some peace in the force, and I was wondering whether you would like to try it."

Sitting down and crossing his legs, Mark place a hand on each knee and drew in even, long breathes. Once more he opened himself up to the Force, and continued to breathe, feeling the air enter then leave his body. After what seemed like forever, he felt himself rising, slowly but surely, but he paid no heed and continued that monotonous breathing cycle. He couldn't feel anything around him anymore; he couldn't even hear the other visitors of the memorial talking, or the hum from the moths as they flew.

Then he began to think. He stretched out with his feelings, and thought about Aubrie. He thought about Mak, about Zule, Kass and Bhat. He even thought about Skywalker; Skywalker who he disliked, secretly but surely. He blamed the then-Padawan for leaving Jabiim; leaving his friends to die while he ran away from the incoming hordes of droids and nationalists. Mark never knew how much he truly hated Anakin Skywalker, and wished he was now here, right before him, so he could exact his revenge.

Mark was shocked out of his mediation by the snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting, the blue glow reflecting off the face of its user: Anakin Skywalker. He was there; tall and muscular, his shoulder-length brown locks almost covering the awful scar that ran down under his right eye. The Knight looked sad, almost pitying as Mark jumped up and pulled out his own green lightsaber, its familiar hilt feeling cool in his hands. Mark held his lightsaber in front of his body in the single-handed low guard of Makashi, standing side-on to his opponent, his lightsaber pointing towards Anakin's feet. Anakin in turn responded by raising his arms, holding his lightsaber angling down behind his head in the classic Djem So attack stance.

The two Jedi stood there; Padawan versus a fully-trained Knight, Mark's face grim while Anakin's still seemed sad. It was as if he was mocking Mark, and he could stand it no longer. Anakin leapt forward, propelling himself with the Force while he swept his blade downwards in an incredible swing, Mark literally feeling the power oozing from the blow as he performed the Makashi Riposte, bringing his lightsaber up and neatly angling the strike away from his body before countering, his short, precise strikes pushing Anakin back. He lifted his blade up and pointed it at the Knight's face, then brought it down, making an X-shaped salute.

Anakin rushed forwards once more, slashing with his blue blade, and once more Mark moved his own blade slightly to riposte, but the same trick never words twice in a row, and Anakin pulled his blade up and down in a diagonal path, but Mark too had feinted, and side-stepped, making the Knight almost fly past him, but Anakin just swung his blade to follow the Padawan, this time giving Mark little time to move, throwing his off-balance as he struggled to evade the strike. Anakin began swinging quick, powerful two-handed strikes at Mark, some of which he could riposte and deliver short counter attacks, while others he could barely parry or evade. His strength seemed to ebb from the constant strong strikes that battered at him, but he could see he was also scoring light hits on Anakin, slight burns on his legs and arms that would hopefully slow him down.

But Mark's hopes were dashed as Anakin raised his lightsaber once more, slashing down again with all the power in the world, making Mark's right arm begin to go numb. He flicked his own lightsaber out, trying to catch Anakin once more, but the older and more experienced fighter blocked them with ease, performing his own riposte after catching Mark's short, diagonal sweep and brushing it aside, before slamming the hilt of his blade into Mark's face.

Blood poured out of Mark's nose, and anger began to well up deep inside him; he was a Jedi! His uncle was the greatest warrior in the Order, and had taught him well, there was no way he should be able to lose like this. Mark knew the Makashi style was notorious for its lack of kinetic force, and that his own blows held little power when compared with Anakin's powerful Djem So. Sweat dripped from his brown, mixing with the blood that was dripping in turn to the ground beneath him, some of which fell sizzling on his lightsaber.

Mark charged forward, his feet moving in a perfect line as he engaged Anakin's lightsaber overhead before pulling back, then lunging forwards again, but once more Anakin beat him aside, and then delivered a kick to his right knee, which he barely retreated from. Mark knew of Anakin's reputation and his skill at fighting opponents such as Count Dooku, who fought primarily using Makashi. While Dooku had defeated Skywalker with the lightsaber form, Dooku was far more skilled in Makashi then Mark was.

Hatred poured off Mark now; he didn't care about breaking the Jedi Code, about controlling his emotions and passion, all he cared now was about avenging Aubrie's death. Raising his lightsaber with both hands, Mark rushed forward and slammed down at Anakin, surprising him with the sudden change in form, but Mark didn't stop there. He whirled about, using the force to jump over Anakin then spinning, his lightsaber a flurry of motion as he angrily beat away at the older Jedi. Every anger-filled blow was a step closer to his revenge, every step taken back by Anakin was another gained by Mark. He enjoyed the look of anguish upon Skywalker's face, reveled in the sheen of sweat that now coated his handsome features.

Ataru was now succeeding where Makashi had failed, and Mark had Anakin under wraps, keeping the Knight back with strike after strike, then pushing the older Jedi with the Force, propelling him back several meters before pulling the off-balance Jedi back in, slicing his left arm off with a quick stroke. Anakin's face screwed up in pain and he yelled out, and then fell back on the ground, his cry of pain echoing strangely.

Mark looked down on the body, and felt his anger continue to grow. He wanted to hack out the body, mutilate the betrayer and kill the man who had the power to save the girl he loved. As he stepped forwards, something strange happened.

Anakin's cry seemed to change in pitch, becoming higher and more feminine while his body shrunk, growing shorter and skinnier. His features blurred while the hair grew longer and darker, changing to a light brown. The expression of sadness didn't go away though, and while it was now mixed with pain and fear, Mark couldn't take his eyes off Aubrie's panting face. His heart broke when he realized what he had done, and when Aubrie's eyes glazed over, her final breathe rattling out in pain, before Mark blanked out.

* * *

When Mark came to, he was lying in a warm bed, his master leaning over him, her worried eyes staring into his. Thinking about what had just occurred; he suddenly knew what was going on. Serra's eyes seemed to confirm it; he had failed the Trial of Spirit, one of the key trials a Padawan had to take in order to become a Knight. For the past year Mark had been asking his Master if he could take the Trials, and become a Jedi Knight just like her, and now it appeared she had allowed him to try after all. But Mark knew what he had done wrong; he had given into his anger and hatred, taking a step down the path of darkness.

"You've still got a lot to learn, my Padawan, but we can talk about it on our trip. The Council has sent us our next assignment; we're to join the Jedi under Master Oppo Rancisis' force at Saleucami, but first we're meeting with Master Quel-Las and her Padawan."

"Portiallias Ebenerious-Tawrn. She's probably my last friend left alive from the Temple," said Mark, his failure to complete his Trial branding him like a hot iron. He had failed, and for good reason; he was not yet ready to wear the mantle of Knighthood, and for now would continue in his training as a Padawan. While he couldn't save Aubrie or his other friends from their fate on Jabiim, atleast he could do everything in his power to protect his last friend; the beautiful girl with dazzling purple hair and pointed ears who now awaited him and his master on the new Victory I-class Star Destroyer, the _Solarius_, at Belderone.


End file.
